Saints
by Emma CS Me
Summary: He looks at her like she's perfect. Like it doesn't even matter whatever she was yelling at him for before. And it makes her tear her freaking hair out. Quinn/Finn.


**Author's Notes: **Written for the darkship prompt meme, the prompt: "sick of you."

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Saints**

He's just has to be such a fucking nice guy, huh?

She's sick of it. When they first got together, she was thankful for it – despite what people say about being the big man on campus means the guy will automatically be a douche, she lucked out. He was a nice guy. He loved her, and she... liked him, at least. She's sixteen, she doesn't have to take every relationship seriously. Finn is sweet, and good-looking, and just as popular as she – dumb as a post, but she kind of likes that – and that was enough for her. It was a good match.

And she is just _so fucking sick of it_.

Really, she doesn't know why. Maybe it's those big puppy dog eyes. The ones which just _stare_ when she yells at him for screwing up his math homework and asking her for help, or when she bitches him out for how bad the football team's doing.

And then, somehow, he always manages to get it back to this:

"_I love you."_

He looks at her like she's _perfect_. Like it doesn't even _matter_ whatever pointless shit she was yelling at him for before. And it makes her tear her freaking hair out.

She's _not_ perfect, anyone could tell that – she's a total bitch to everyone, most of all him. And everyone else in the entire world has noticed that, _except_ him. It doesn't matter that Rachel Berry's permanently stained an odd kind of purple from slushies (which kind of fits with the name, but still); that she and Santana, "best friends" since fifth grade, will always have knives aimed at each other's backs; that she can have any girl's life turned to hell for rest of her high school existence with a shrug. She can't say that wouldn't matter to him. There's a difference between letting a guy get shoved in a dumpster, and letting a girl's entire self-image be slowly and systematically destroyed. She just... kind of thinks he hasn't noticed.

She doesn't deserve him. That's kind of the problem. He's so _sweet_, and he'd do _anything_ for her, and she's done nothing to earn that. She's not the beautiful-all-along heroine who wins the heart of the stunning male lead in the end. She's the horrible shrew who makes that girl's life hell as long as possible, and always winds up married to a deadbeat with like, seven kids.

He's just too _dumb_ to realize that. To realize how much better he could do, and how _stupid_ it is to let people like her and Puck and those bastards on the football team control his life the way they do. Sure, it makes her feel better for a split-second when he loses that _Finn-ness_ for a second, and acts just as horrible as the rest of them, but – she doesn't want to do that do him. Well, she does. But she doesn't think it would be _right_ to do that to him.

She tries her best to push him into not being so great and good and blah blah blah. He wants to fuck her. She knows this. Some tiny part of her wants to fuck him back – no, she can't give into that impulse. Temptation and sin and all that. She would never do it, of course. Still, she uses that. She flickers sex around like bait for him, laying a trap. Her family are always asking her if he's "pushing" (they're wary of his quite apathetic stance on God and the like); he would never, but that won't stop her trying to make him. If she teases him enough, eventually it's got to get to him. Right?

Okay, so far? Not so much. Although the fact they can barely even make-out without a sticky surprise doesn't really help matters. He's about twelve sometimes, honestly.

Still, twelve or not – he's a _good guy_. A good _person_. And she's just sort of... not.

She freaking hates him for it. She says so much that should have him wisening up and dumping her – _are you a moron?, you know you can't do this, why do I always have to be the one to get things through to your stupid thick head?_ – and nothing happens. Ever. He loves her, like she's lovable or something crazy like that.

And she winds up with Puck – his best friend – on her bed. Puck, who shamelessly ogles her boobs in public, and responds to her saying "I can't do this," by telling her to have another wine-cooler. And all she thinks is _fucking finally._


End file.
